Wait Until Three
by ALC Punk
Summary: Kara Thrace reflects on past lovers while with Sam Anders, in comparison, they come up short.


Disclaimer: not mine.  
Rating: R, sex Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, ref: Kara/Baltar, Kara/Zak, Kara/Lee Length: 1,000+ Set: Resistance/The Farm.  
Notes: The funny thing is, I've written this before. Just in a completely different style. Many many thanks to the fabulous karmaaster who, when I said, "omg look this over" said "sure". Masochist that she is. ANY remaining mistakes are my own. 

pauses stares at winamp Well. I was trying to find a title... (The Cure's "Let's Go To Bed", for those interested)

_**Wait Until Three**_ by ALC Punk!

Kara thinks in snatches, moments between breaths, with Sam's hands on her skin.

Inevitable moments of comparison, variations from past lovers--most long-forgotten.

Zak had been gentle and passionate, not quite sure of himself, but willing to learn. He'd been good mostly with his mouth, not quite mastering other portions of his anatomy. It would have come with time he never had.

The thoughts dissolve into fragments with Sam's tongue between her breasts--he's confident of what he's doing, and it draws a curse from her, because he's right. Frak him.

A laugh tickles her skin and her thoughts spiral out of control, again.

Baltar was all smooth skin, catty comments and covert glances.

She'd hated it, and only the feeling of falling when she got too close to Lee had made her grab for him. And even then, it hadn't worked.

Anders is different. So different from both Baltar and Zak.

From the first, he'd stared openly with a mixture of antagonism and appreciation. It had made her skin itch and her fingers ache to wipe the expression from his eyes. Until now, when he looks at her with such heat that she grabs for him, dragging him close (too close).

His callouses are rough against her skin, catching in half a dozen places--scars and scrapes still half-healed from her fight with the Cylon. But they feel real.

More real than stale-scented sheets and Lee Adama's open smile.

Sam smells like dirt and sweat, and she loses track of Lee when his mouth slides against her. His teeth just barely graze her, and she's arching against him, a whimper at the back of her throat and all thought of being in control lost.

Fingers tangling into his hair, she relishes the way he maps her with his tongue and then figures it out.

She wants to hit him for his confidence, to smash at it and break through it until he's the one begging with his back bent and his eyes wide.

No thought, then, because he isn't over-confident.

Crashing down, she tries to twist her fingers in his hair, but it's too short for that. Frustrated even in her post-orgasmic glow, she digs a heel into his back. "Sam--"

Stubble scrapes the inside of one thigh, and he moves to peer up her body at her, eyes dark and smug, "Yeah?"

It hits her, how vulnerable she is right now, and she pushes and sits up, breaking that thought into a hundred pieces. He simply watches her, leans back and accommodates her with hands on her hips until she bends down to kiss him.

"Get up here and get on your back, Sam," she murmurs, nipping at his lips.

He does so, but stops to grope her along the way, and she gropes back, ducking her head to lick his shoulder. He tastes like salt and her and skin, a musky undertone that catches at the back of her throat and makes her pull back to admire him when he sprawls, finally.

The sight of his erect penis makes her skin heat, just a little. Baltar had needed coaxing. She decides, suddenly, almost violently, that past lovers can frak themselves. She'll concentrate on the one in front of her.

Sam gasps when she licks him in one long stroke, smirking at him with her eyes.

If he's going to be over-confident, so is she. It doesn't take much to prove her own theories about men all being the same. Mouth around him, tongue fluttering just so, she figures him out faster than he did her. But then, guys are just easy. Baltar hadn't been interested, Zak had always blushed... The rest of them, she couldn't even remember the names of.

Kara thinks she might remember Sam's name when she looks back on this.

Feeling almost bored, she quickens her pace, gauging how long it will take him. When he gasps out a warning, his muscles strain up against her. And Kara smiles as she lifts her head and simply just stops.

"Kara..." The word is a plea, but she ignores it in favor of simply kneeling there to stare at him.

Her hands catch his when he reaches for her and she moves slowly as she climbs upwards on the bed. Straddling his stomach, she thinks this is new--feeling his taut stomach ripple against her legs is different. Zak would have been too impatient--would have dragged her up and onto his mouth, or whined until she dropped down onto him. She's not sure about Baltar, but remembers that he liked to be on top.

"Hey," Sam whispers, the sound low and full of need and amusement.

"Just checking you're not dead." The murmur escapes her before she thinks there might be more than one meaning to it.

But he's ignoring the reference to the massacre that happened before they got to this point. Pulling at her shoulders, he tugs her down and she arches and bites at his lips before she lets him kiss her. One hand slides into her hair, and she makes a note to remember to chop it when she gets back. It's too frakking long, now.

Just kissing Sam Anders is different from kissing every other man. He tastes like--well, she's not sure anymore what he tastes like. She's too busy kissing him, teasing his mouth with her own, feeling his tongue slide just there--to try to catalogue the taste.

She wants to remember him. Unlike Gaius, whom she's already trying to forget (and Lee), and Zak. She wants to think of Sam Anders right before she dies (which will be soon, if the Cylons continue their unrelenting attacks on the fleet--if she even makes it back, that is). To remember the way his hands marked the skin of her hips, digging in a little too much. How he sounded, desperate for more than she was teasingly giving.

His mouth. She wants to remember moving up and letting him suck a nipple into his talented mouth. She doesn't quite want to remember the needy little sound she made when he stopped.

But she'll remember his smug little laugh. The one she had to ruin when she moved down, fast, and his back arched and her thighs protested the exertion on such short notice.

She ignores them in favor of using every trick she knows to drive him insane. It takes far too little time for him to be close to losing it, and when he says, "Kara." She knows she'll remember the sound of her name on his tongue. His voice is ragged and threadbare just before she twists her hips to break him.

Hands braced on his shoulders, she'll remember that his gaze was clear--as though he were looking right through her, past all the barriers. "That's Starbuck, honey," she growls, dropping down to kiss him.

She thinks the kiss was a mistake as he turns the tables, rolls them and gives her back what she took.

-f-


End file.
